Personal Stuff
by skyline angel
Summary: SLASH. Gil decides to take steps to fix his 'personal stuff'. Spoilers from 'Pledging Mr. Johnson'. One-shot.


**Rating:  
Summary:** Gil decides to take steps to fix his 'personal stuff'. Gil/Greg slash! Spoilers from 'Pledging Mr. Johnson'.  
**Disclaimer:** _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ is the property of Anthony Zuiker, CBS Network, and their subsequent associates. No copyright infringement is intended; this work is purely for entertainment purposes only.  
**Warning/s:** This is **SLASH**. I'm saying it loud and clear! Don't like, don't read, don't say I didn't warn ya. Also, Grissom may come across as a bit OOC... sorry!  
**Author's Notes:** This takes place after Season 1 - Episode 4: Pledging Mr. Johnson. It also happens here that Gil and Greg are already in a relationship (It's quite hard to start from scratch).   
This is my first CSI slash fic, so be kind! I hope you like this, and I do hope you can take the time to leave me a review! NO FLAMES!

OOOOOOOOOO

Gil Grissom, CSI supervisor of the graveyard shift of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Anyone who saw him could, at first glance, figure out even a little bit of his personality. Curt. Calm. Rational. Reserved. Intelligent. Introverted.

Wait. That last one. Introverted?

Supposedly.

If you have second thoughts, come and see...

OOOOOOOOO

The aforementioned person entered his office, just as his shift was ending. Gil Grissom sat down and allowed his thoughts to wander from the case solved today, to his current worry. He remembered the argument he had with Catherine earlier, and he winced as he recalled her final, biting words.

_"Grissom... **what**__personal stuff?"_

Was it really true? Was he really that cold and withdrawn that he didn't have any "personal stuff" anymore?

He looked up, slightly distracted, as he heard footsteps. Greg Sanders suddenly passed by his window, making his way to the break room. Grissom smiled slightly as he watched Greg remove the latex glove that had adorned his head a few moments ago.

Grissom remembered fondly the exchange he and Greg had earlier that day. Grissom had recited a quote, and Greg had gotten it right. Robert Frost. _Very good, Greg,_ he had said. It was a comforting memory, among the many other comforting memories he had of Greg, which he often reflected on during times of stress or trouble.

He smiled some more as he realized that maybe he did have some sort of personal stuff after all. Through some strange twist of fate, luck, or chance, the CSI supervisor and the lab technician had something between them, something that went beyond friendship, and definitely something that went way beyond supervisor and subordinate.

There was only one way to find out whether that 'something' between them was really true or not. Grissom sighed as he realized that even though he _did_ have personal stuff, he wasn't experienced in dealing with them. He might have been considered a genius in a number of fields, but love - yes, he was finally able to muster the courage to put_ that _name to the 'something' - wasn't one of those fields. He stood up, and headed over to the break room, hoping that it was empty except for a certain lab tech.

OOOOOOOOOO

Grissom entered the break room, scanning it quickly for anyone. There, seated alone on a couch, was Greg Sanders. Perfect. Grissom sat next to him. "Hey there, Maestro," Grissom greeted, noting that Greg was listening to music through his CD player.

Greg blinked, turned off his CD player and removed his earphones. "Hey, love, what's up?" He asked, seeing Grissom's worried face, which was an expression that one normally did not see.

"Catherine and I had an argument earlier," Grissom started, while running a hand through his lover's unruly hair. Greg nodded, listening. "She said that I didn't have any... personal stuff. She said that I live alone, doing nothing but watching documentaries and answering crosswords and basically not having any fun." He sighed. "Am I really _that_ distant that I don't have any life besides CSI?"

Greg looked surprised, then suddenly smiled, much to Grissom's confusion and relief. "Nah, Gris, you're not. You just don't show them that you do have life outside CSI," He shrugged and continued. "I mean, you're all professional and the-big-boss-like here at work, but you're different outside. I should know, " He said teasingly, a sly smile crossing his face. "I've seen it many times."

Grissom sighed with relief. "Thank goodness," he murmured. "At least one person believes that I have a social life."

Greg continued with his long, humorous explanation. "You're unique even here, Grissom. This is the first time I've seen a guy hang a talking fish on his door," he said about Grissom's Big Mouth Billy Bass. "You're also one of the few people I've met who take huge creepy spiders for pets and raise cockroaches for a hobby. I thought it was wild enough that I had a coin collection, but apparently not. Not everyone has that talent. Or the guts, for that matter."

Greg then managed to make Grissom chuckle, which was saying a lot. It was a pleasant sound to Greg, and one he didn't really hear often. He pushed on with his monologue. "It's not all bad, you know. You have fun too. I mean, like this morning? I was playing this really neat music on the radio, and I think you liked it! You were almost dancing to it there." At this Grissom raised an eyebrow. Greg continued, "And at least you're able to get us moving and working properly on the cases, unlike that Eckle... ah, what was his name?"

"Ecklie," Grissom corrected, and Greg could detect a very tiny hint of annoyance at the name of the very competitive dayshift supervisor.

"Yeah, that Ecklie guy. He doesn't even care about what he's doin'. All he likes is the fact that he gets paid to do this stuff. Unlike you, Grissom. You actually take this stuff to heart, and work so hard on it, and I look up to you for that."

Grissom smiled then. The feeling of appreciation warmed him and made him feel better. "Thanks, Greg," he said. "For someone who likes to wear oddly patterned shirts and listens to very VERY loud music, you're actually a really great guy. You're liked by everyone here."

Greg laughed, but then his expression turned soulful and expressive. "Well, the point is, you can be really quiet, but you can also be many things, things that not everyone has been lucky enough to see. That's what makes you special. That's-" Here his voice became softer. "-why I love you."

Grissom felt a strange lightness within him to hear those words come from Greg. He was the only one in Grissom's entire life who had managed to find his way into the investigator's heart and teach him how to love. Not being experienced with emotional moments, he answered Greg's statement in the only way he could, without using words.

Grissom then gently took Greg into his arms and kissed him tenderly, pouring every bit of love and every vestige of passion and emotion that he had into the kiss. He didn't think about the consequences, the worries, or anything, other than the feel of Greg's lips on his.

When Grissom finally broke off the kiss, Greg's eyes were soft with emotion and his lips curved in a soft smile. He lay content in Grissom's arms, and he sighed in pleasure as Grissom stroked his cheek. "Well," he said, smiling at Grissom. "I think we can say that you _do_ have personal stuff."

Grissom smiled back at the young man and murmured a quote remembered. "All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love." Greg grinned, recognizing the quote, just as he had recognized Robert Frost's earlier that day.

"Leo Tolstoy. Tough luck, I got it again, Gil," Greg said slyly. "But then, I don't reckon you'd want to talk about that now. There was _something_ else I had in mind," he said suggestively, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Grissom smiled and whispered, just before capturing Greg's lips once more.

"Very good, Greg."

**Fin**


End file.
